Home
by Angel's babe
Summary: Deals with Zoe's and Tom's thoughts after season 3.Spoilers: after Season 3
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters they belong to Kudos productions. I don't own the song or the lyrics either; those belong to the handsome and talented Michael Buble.

Author's notes: 1. Inspiration for this comes from the song: _Home_ written by Michael Buble- as stated in the disclaimer.

2: "" Dialogue, '' thoughts

3. Bold text indicates an email

Summary: Zoe's thoughts after her trial and exile.

Home:

Zoe was awakened after her alarm went off, and the music from Rio's only English language radio station blasted. She lay in bed groaning and wishing she didn't have to get out of bed and face another day alone. She shut her eyes pretending she never heard the alarm and listened to the music for a while. Her eyes flicked open again as the song: Home came on. It fit her mood, it was wistful, and it spoke to her:

_Another summer day has come and gone away in Paris or Rome_

_But I want to go home._

_I may be surrounded by a million people_

_I still feel all alone, _

_I just want to go home._

It wasn't as if Zoe made hadn't made friends in Rio, she had- her co-workers had been wonderfully patient helping her adjust, and her neighbours. It was just… she wasn't Zoe anymore she was Rachel, somebody that up until the aftermath of her trial never existed.

She was tired of pretending to be somebody she wasn't, tired of manipulating people and circumstances in the name of Queen and country. She supposed it was a noble cause at the beginning, but god did it ever demand a high emotional price.

_Oh I miss you, you know._

_And I've been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you,_

_Each one a line or two:_ _I'm fine baby, how are you?_

She'd been writing letters to Will as well, or rather trying to write letters. She couldn't really get beyond the greeting. She would write those exact lines then set her pen down as frustration would overtake her. She was frustrated that, writing was all she could ever do, she could never see him again; never plan her wedding to him.

_I would send them, but I know that it's just not enough_

_My words are cold and flat and_

_You deserve more than that_

Will deserved more than just words, he deserved all of her. Before her trial, she was to that point, to the point where she would have given herself to him. But now, after Danny's declaration of love she wasn't sure. She knew she wanted someone, but would she have been able to take the risk with Danny, to risk their already strained friendship for something more? Zoe sighed as she put the question aside- all that was revisionist; she couldn't turn back time any more than she could go home.

_Another Airplane, another sunny place_

_I'm lucky I know_

_But I want to go home_

_I've got to go home_

She knew perfectly well that she was lucky to have gotten away from it alive. It became horrifyingly clear to her part-way through that somebody, somewhere wanted to make an example of her- was either going to let her go to jail or kill her outright by firing squad as a traitor. She knew as well that she was lucky to have gotten exiled to Rio, with its white sandy beaches, happening nightlife, and constant 25 degree celcius weather. But all that good fortune couldn't erase the aching longing to be home in London. She had a sad smile as she realized that she even missed the out-of-nowhere rain that could come down at a moments notice.

_Let me go home_

_I'm just too far_

_From where you are_

_I want to come home_

It made her think of the day she got that cable, untraceable of course. Merely a couple of lines:

**Danny's dead. He died in the line of duty and will be fondly remembered. - H**

She knew who "H" was of course- Harry. She called in sick to work that day, and collapsed on her bed crying tears of anger and sadness- the job had taken a second of her friends. She longed to be there, mourning him. She was at one point on the phone about to book the first flight to London. Her better mind took over though, as she realized that she couldn't, would likely be arrested on the spot right after stepping foot onto British soil.

_And I feel like I'm living someone else's life_

_Like I've just stepped outside_

_When everything was going right_

Zoe chuckled to herself at that. She had started living someone else's life literally. No longer was she Zoe Reynolds top officer in HM's secret service, but Rachel Templeton, a convict just released after serving time for petty theft.

Everything was perfect in her life: She loved her job, and was good at it. She had a gorgeous boyfriend, and was talking about getting married. And then, all hell broke loose

_And I know just why you could not come along with me_

_This was not your dream_

_But you've always believed in me_

She smiled, as she remembered all the people that had believed in her. She had worked hard to succeed in what was primarily a male's job, and she was awarded with the faith and trust of not only Harry but Tom and Danny as well. It was with great certainty not her dream to be exiled away from home, and friends. In her ideal world she would have retired quietly with Will and raised kids in a quiet little cottage.

_Another winter day_

_Has come and gone away_

_In either Paris or Rome_

_But I want to come home_

_Let me go home_

_And I'm surrounded by_

_A million people I_

_Still feel alone_

_Let me go home_

_I miss you, you know_

Enough time had passed she supposed that she should be missing home less, and less. That was not so. She had good friends here; or rather Rachel had good friends here. Zoe's friends were all in London and she couldn't get rid of the longing she felt in her heart to go home. The longing would always be there and it would never go away completely.

_Let me go home_

_I've had my run_

_Baby I'm done_

_Let me come home_

Zoe bit back tears of anger at that part. She was tired of being somebody else; she just wanted to be Zoe. It had gotten to the point where she didn't even know where Zoe Reynolds ended and her many identities began. She just wanted to give up this life, and go back home. But no, she had to stay she knew that. As far as anybody knew Zoe Reynolds was in jail, it was Rachel Templeton that was here, that was living. If only she could go home, just for a couple days…

_It'll all be alright_

_I'll be home tonight_

_I'm coming back home_

It was nice for Zoe to imagine that she could go home, but in the end her logical mind prevailed, and she realized that she might never go home. But she would dream of going there though.

The song ended and Zoe wiped the tears off and took a deep breath. It was time to face another day.

_Fin_

Again: the song and lyrics belong to the handsome, talented Michael Buble.


	2. Chapter 2: Tom's Point of View

Disclaimer: The usual- I don't own them, boo-hoo for me, yeah for somebody else. The lyrics of course are the property of the handsome, talented Michael Buble

Summary: see chapter #1- only from Tom's Point of view

Author's notes:

"" Dialogue, '' thoughts

Bold text indicates email/cable

Home: Chapter #2- Tom's thoughts on his exile

Tom Quinn walked into his neighbourhood pub and groaned as he heard the familiar opening chords of Home by Michael Buble. He heaved a huge sigh as he climbed onto his bar stool. He couldn't get away from that song, it woke him up this morning, played on the radio on his way to work, while he was at work, and now here.

_Another summer day has come and gone away in Paris or Rome_

_But I want to go home._

Tom looked at the pub he was in with an ironic smile: this was likely the furthest place from Paris and Rome- the famous George St. district of St. John's in Newfoundland. He had decided on this city because it was enough like home not be homesick, and far enough way he wouldn't get sucked back into his former life. Tonight however, and hearing that song so many times in one day it amplified his desire to be home at his flat in London. The bartender made his way to his end of the bar, and he ordered a pint and sat sipping at it. The song droned on.

_I may be surrounded by a million people_

_I still feel all alone, _

_I just want to go home._

He'd made friends on St. John's; some of them had become good friends. But he still hadn't told anyone much about himself, or about his past. His excuse for leaving was always the vague: 'I want to see the world before I settle down.' He always made that phrase sound convincing, so that people always smiled understandingly, and then left him alone. Nobody knew or realized that he was running, or what he was running from, and he liked it that way.

_Oh I miss you, you know._

_And I've been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you,_

_Each one a line or two: I'm fine baby, how are you?_

He wanted to write to Ellie, still fancied he felt something for her, and imagined that someday they might still make a life together. But he never was able to summon the courage to get beyond those first two lines. He took a swallow of his beer.

_I would send them, but I know that it's just not enough_

My words are cold and flat and 

_You deserve more than that_

He never sent the letters to her, he was actually afraid of what she might say in return. Any explanations he would offer would be empty words that she would see as selfish. He could see her saying that if he actually meant them, he would be back begging her to take him back, forcing her to look deep into his blue eyes and tell him that she never loved him. And he couldn't go back there and live just a normal life. He would get sucked back into his former life, and it wouldn't be fair to her. She might eventually see that he would always be a spook no matter what else he did… But he couldn't do that yet, couldn't go back there.

_Another Airplane, another sunny place_

I'm lucky I know 

_But I want to go home_

_I've got to go home_

He looked around him with another ironic smile. It was rarely sunny in St. John's, rainy for a lot of the time or cloudy. And the fog- at times it was as if it couldn't decide whether to blanket the city or go back out into the North Atlantic. It was just another thing that made him feel comfortable. The fact was Tom liked his life as Matthew Archer, loved St. John's. But there were nights, like tonight the homesickness became unbearable. The burden of all the things he had done in the past threatened to overtake him, settle on his shoulders like a ton of bricks. It was nights like tonight he came extremely close to saying: I'm not who everyone thinks I am, I'm not this wonderful guy Matthew Archer, I'm Tom Quinn, an ex-spy with MI-5. I've seen things that people should never have to see, done things that nobody should have to do." Then he'd realize that he's lucky to be alive, to have gotten out of the service alive. And it would all be okay. He closed his eyes and pinched his nose in a gesture of fatigue.

_Let me go home_

_I'm just too far_

_From where you are_

I want to come home 

He remembered vividly the morning he got the telegram, untraceable of course. He was on his way to work, when there came a knock at the door. He opened it, and was met with a stone-faced deliveryman holding an envelope. He signed his name and took the plain brown envelope and closed the door. He took out the single neatly folded piece of paper and read, something that he never thought he would read:

**Danny's dead. He died in the line of duty, defending another agent. He will be missed.**

**-H.**

The telegram was classic Harry. A one-line message, telling exactly what was needed, nothing more or nothing less. Tom recalled that he'd read it several times, before it had actually gotten through to him. He went through his day saying nothing, feeling numb. When he got home, he found the telegram- where he'd left it, and read it again. It was then his façade completely cracked and he began shedding tears of anger, and sadness. Danny was his friend, his best friend, and now he was dead. He was angry that he couldn't go home and say goodbye to him, properly.

_And I feel like I'm living someone else's life_

_Like I've just stepped outside_

_When everything was going right_

This was yet another irony in the life of Tom Quinn- He was living someone else's life, and this life was actually better. He was beginning to realize that it had been a long time since the last time something went right in his life. So in a way, he should be grateful that he had this chance for a fresh start in a new place.

_And I know just why you could not come along with me_

_This was not your dream_

But you've always believed in me 

He thought back to the very last time he was on the grid. The very moment he glanced back over his shoulder at Zoe, waving with tears in her eyes. The fact was, Tom realized that it eventually became impossible to separate yourself from the job, and that Zoe was crying not because she was losing him: her friend and mentor, but because he got what she only dreamed of: A second chance.

As for believing in him, Tom knew that all three (Danny, Zoe, and Harry) believed in him. They believed that he would always do his duty, always do what was needed and required of him. Tom also knew that with one decision he had destroyed all that. But he still couldn't regret it; he still couldn't regret what he said, and what he did on that last case. He acted his conscience and someday, they would forgive and come to see that.

_Another winter day_

_Has come and gone away_

_In either Paris or Rome_

_But I want to come home_

_Let me go home_

And I'm surrounded by 

_A million people I_

_Still feel alone_

_Let me go home_

_I miss you, you know_

Tom laughed again, surveying his surroundings, thinking again how far this pub was from Paris and Rome. There were times when the only place he wanted to be was in his flat in London, and the only people he wanted to be with were: Ellie, Zoe, Harry, and Danny. He heaved a heavy sigh as he again thought of how he had made many friends here in St. John's, but still felt extremely isolated, which, in a twisted way made sense, after all those friends could never know the real Tom Quinn.

_Let me go home_

_I've had my run_

_Baby I'm done_

Let me come home 

It was a second telegram with Ellie's familiar handwriting that made him long for London. The message said that she was getting married. She explained that she couldn't wait for him, couldn't wait for the time when he would come back. And she couldn't come to him, uproot Maisie, get used to a new country, a new culture. At first he wondered at how she knew where he was. He was happy that she still thought of him, still wanted him, then the anger came; he was tired of being somebody else, living a double life all the time. He just wanted to be Tom Quinn, live that one single life in London with her. He longed for the exile to be lifted, to be allowed back into the country and the service. But realistically he knew it was not to be…

_It'll all be alright_

I'll be home tonight 

_I'm coming back home_

Tom took the last gulp of his beer. The only way it would be 'alright,' is when he returned to England. He briefly imagined a future however unrealistic with Ellie and Maisie. They would live in a cottage in some small town, where Ellie would run a restaurant and he could help out there, or teach at a local school. He saw himself sitting at the kitchen table helping Maisie with her homework. He saw it all in his mind's eye, then he blinked and his pleasant daydream was gone and he was back I n the pub. He thought then of a grim truth: the only way he would go home would be in his dreams. He paid his tab, and climbed off his stool. As he made his way to the door he pulled the zipper up on his coat and wound his scarf around his neck and left the bar. He would dream of Maisie and Ellie tonight.

Vraiment (really) Fin- I mean it!

-Happy reading

-A.B.


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